


Music Drabbles Vol. II

by zjofierose



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Destruction of Vulcan, Drabble, Friendship/Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the meme "write ten ficlets for the first ten songs on your music player"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Drabbles Vol. II

**Author's Note:**

> Music Drabbles Vol. II
> 
> Music Drabbles Vol. II- k/s edition
> 
> pairing- k/s  
> rating- pg/pg-13  
> genre- drabbles  
> disclaimer- make no money off this, not my characters, etc.  
> a/n- well, i went and did it again. apparently i like songs as a jumping off point? cross-posted, sorry for any spamming. hope you like it...
> 
>  
> 
> _ETA: going through and cleaning things up slightly circa 2016 just to make things a little more formatted and readable, etc. this is still an old fic, and one of the earliest i ever wrote, so it's a little... yeah. BUT even though I think (hope) I'm a better writer now, I think it's worth preserving the old stuff for a variety of reasons (yes, ok, part of my day job is being an archivist, it rubs off), so I'm leaving it mostly as is._

**1) "Drive You Home"- Garbage**

_The Enterprise, Cmmdr Spock's quarters. 0128 hours._

Spock does not desire sleep. He knows that he will inevitably need it, but not tonight. 

He has meditated for five hours now. He knows that only a lifetime of meditation will begin to ease the pain of his losses (of every Vulcan's losses). Still, he has clung to the ritual, forcing the rebellious (human) edges of his nature down in an attempt to begin to acknowledge the scope of his own pain. After acknowledgment can come respect, after respect, then cataloging, then filing, and eventually it can all be forgotten in an unassuming drawer in the back cabinets of his mind.

Spock rises, stretching his joints until they pop with release, echoing in the silence of his room.

He will never forget. He does not even know why he is trying.

  
**2) "Kansas City/ Hey Hey Hey"- The Beatles**  
  
_Va'kor, Ra'Ah. 2347 hours._

It is their first shore leave in the six month old mission. The planet is Ra'Ah, their location is a bar, and it is most certainly Captain James T. Kirk rising periodically from the bottom of the rather large and ongoing brawl.

He hasn't felt this good since he was whomping Romulans on that damned planet drill with Sulu and his crazy sword. He feels _alive_ again for the first time in half a year.

He surfaces long enough to catch a glimpse of Spock across the room, stiff-backed and straight-faced as he leans inconspicuously against the wall. He can dimly hear Bones over the din calling for another round. Their eyes lock, fathomless brown to summer-sky blue, and Jim's face splits in half as he grins rhapsodically at the best friend he's ever known.

Hands fist in the back of his collar, and he hears himself begin to laugh, high-pitched and manic as his body is pulled back down.

Against the far wall, the corner of Spock's mouth twitches infinitesimally up.

  
**3) Rest and Be Thankful”- Battlefield Band**

_The Enterprise, 0218 hours._

After a year of working with James T. Kirk, Spock has a pretty good idea of where to locate his captain when Jim is indulging in his insomniac tendencies.

He was not in the mess hall for a midnight snack. He was not in Engineering visiting Scotty and his not-very-secret still. He was not in the ship's gym. All of which is why Spock is now leaning in the doorway of the darkened observation lounge, a silent spectator as Jim stares fixedly forward into the endless glittering night.

“In a week, it will have been a year.”

Spock does not answer. It is a statement of fact, and as such, does not require a response.

Jim has his knees up in front of him on the bench, arms drawn tight around as he leans his head against the transparent aluminum. His profile glows dark against the starfield, and Spock cannot bring himself to look away.

“So much lost, Spock. So much loss.” Jim's voice is thin as he bows his forehead to rest against his knees.

It is only as he seats himself carefully next to Jim that Spock realizes he's crossed the room. He settles in, cross-legged in his customary meditation pose, allowing the outer edges of his arm and knee to rest against Jim's back.

“Yes. So much loss.” He pauses, considering. “And yet, we are here.”

Jim raises his head and looks out at the galaxy spread wide before them. He leans into Spock's touch as he draws a slow breath.

“Yes, Spock. We are here.”

  
**4) “Baby's In Black”- The Beatles**

_The Enterprise, Capt. Kirk's quarters. 0725 hours._

It is early. Jim knows this in his bones, but a quick glance at his bedside chronometer confirms it. It is also his day off. So why, he wonders to himself, is his door chime ringing?

“Come” he calls to the door, resisting the urge to shove his head back under the pillow. Presumably that is an un-captainly action. He rubs his eyes instead, hoping whoever it is will excuse his state of half-undress.

“Spock” he says, as he recognizes the figure now standing in front of his door. “What's up?”

“I require your assistance, Captain. It is a... personal matter.” Spock purses his lips, and Kirk thinks he looks uncharacteristically disquieted. This must be serious.

“Tell me.” Jim pulls himself to his feet, grabbing for his bathrobe and sliding his arms into its voluminous sleeves.

Spock wordlessly hands him a pair of scissors, and sits down firmly in Jim's desk chair, swiveling so that his back is to the Captain.

“Umm... Spock? You... want me to cut your hair?” Jim rubs his eyes again in confusion.

“Affirmative, Captain.”

“Spock, you are aware that there is a ship's barber, right?”

Spock's shoulders slump. “I am aware, Captain. I have procured his services before. However, this is a ... somewhat different situation.” His fingers fidget uncomfortably on the arm of the chair.

“Spock. You woke me up early on my day off. Explain.” Jim crosses his arms and waits.

Spock sighs quietly. “I apologize for the interruption Captain.”

Jim waits some more.

Spock sighs again. “As you may have noticed, Captain, it has been a year since the destruction of Vulcan, and the death of my mother.” Jim rolls his eyes. He's noticed. “As is Vulcan custom, I, and all other Vulcans, have let my hair grow uncut as a sign of mourning.”

Jim nods. He'd noticed them all getting a bit shaggy, but hadn't wanted to say anything. It wasn't his business unless it interfered with regulations, and it hadn't yet.

“However,” Spock continues, “after the initial year has passed, we are required to return to our customary style, with the exception of one lock of hair, which is maintained as a symbol of continued grief. I do not find myself capable of cutting my own hair satisfactorily whilst leaving one lock unshorn. Thus, I ask you to do it.”

Kirk frowns. “Surely the barber would do a better job than I can?”

Spock stills. “ _Jim_." He pauses, and Jim can barely make out what he says next. "...it must be done by family.”

  
**5) “Love Minus Zero/ No Limits”- Bob Dylan**

_San Francisco, CA, Earth. 2147 hours_

It's the first day of a five day conference. It coincided so neatly with their scheduled return to Earth for their end-of-first-year debriefing that there was no hope of Jim getting out of it. He sighs into his beer. A full day of lectures on new technology, debriefing techniques, diplomatic incursions, how-not-to-treat-any-crew-you-might-ever-be-attracted-to. Then the endless dinner with its infinite variations on impressive silverware, unrecognizable dishes, and shades of polite bullshit.

Fortunately at least some of the other captains had felt similarly, and so he found himself happily tagging along with a group of his rank-peers to a rather-more-reputable-than-he's-used-to bar and gleefully facing down an extremely foamy brew.

Now, however, he's regretting not going back to the hotel. Apparently this is in fact an epic bitch session, which is only getting louder as it continues. This is the safe space for captains to complain about their staff, apparently, and bully for them. Except, he doesn't have anyone to complain about. And really, isn't that a good thing?

He tunes back in briefly. The topic has moved to first officers. They chastise, they whine, they obstruct, they sabotage. Really? Mitchell's officer pulls pranks with his laundry? Not that Jim's going to argue that Mitchell doesn't deserve it, but still...

He thinks of Spock. Brilliant, reserved, loyal to a fault. Spock's eyes on his as they come to unspoken agreements, Spock fearlessly covering his back on mission after mission, Spock's voice in his ear as they faced down Nero.

He finishes his beer, drops some credits on the table, and slips out.

He's got better places to be.

  
**6) “How Does It Make You Feel”- Air**

_The Enterprise, Sickbay. 1653 hours._

The beeping of the monitor is slow, but steady. This is reassuring, at least compared to the utter absence of beeps from it earlier, when Jim's heart had seized yet again post-op. Spock is willing to concede the slow as long as the steady remains.

He is unsure when the link between them formed- it may have something to do with his alternate self and his meld with the captain on Delta Vega, he is not sure. It is unconscionable that he has been so remiss in his own self-examinations that he was unaware of its presence until the accident sent spikes of primal fear stabbing through his brain, even as his body moved beyond possible speeds to his captain's side.

He thinks Jim is unaware of it. He does not intend to tell him. It is not a lie, he thinks. After all, its continuation can only benefit the captain, and therefore, the ship.

Surely it is the logical course.

  
**7) “Do What You Wanna”- Ramsey Lewis**

_The Enterprise, Ambassadorial Suite. 1932 hours._

Scotty's still has paid off, Jim thinks to himself as he tosses back another one of whatever those pink concoctions of Uhura's are. And judging by the looks on the faces of the visiting delegates, he's not the only one who thinks so.

A smile flickers across his face, quicksilver and predatory. One of the delegates is wearing some very impressively and strategically attached floral decorations on the front of her costume. And, really, not much else. He sets his glass down on the bar and strides purposefully across the room. It is not a strut. Not really.

He knows something's been off for a while, but he had pretty much ignored it. Something funny in his head, but really, what's new about that? Well, this, apparently. Because that quick stab of jealously? Irritation? That, he thinks, could not have been his. Not when the delegate (Amala? Amara? Something like that.) is doing such sinfully suggestive things to his fingers.

And the blinding flash of rage when one of the other delegates (well, ok, he hadn't realized the delegates were married, so sue him) tosses a powerful right hook into his left eye? Definitely not his.

From his position on his back on the floor he squints up through his right eye, his gaze searching, locking unquestioningly on one figure.

Spock.

  
**8) “Great Divide”- The Cardigans**

_The Enterprise, Cmmdr Spock's quarters. 0417 hours._

The captain's anger was completely understandable, Spock reasons with himself. There is often more than one logical response to a situation, and though his position that maintaining the link with the captain ( _Jim_ ) could be a practical safety measure was indeed logical, he must also admit that the captain's feelings of mental violation were also equally logical.

The logic of the feeling he can accept. The emotion behind it, though... that hurts. He closes his eyes again, draws himself down further in his meditation. Hurt, rejection, loss. He must allow himself to feel these responses if he wants to regain his customary equilibrium. Allow the emotions, accept them. Evaluate, catalog, and release. It is as it must be.

And yet. He can still see the betrayal in those alien-pale eyes.

Allow. Accept. Release.

It is possible that this will require further meditation.

  
**9) “Tonight, Tonight”- The Smashing Pumpkins**

_The Enterprise, Capt. Kirk's quarters. 2256 hours._

It was not entirely how Jim had planned it, that Spock would be on his back on the floor of Jim's quarters, mouth open and eyes wide as Jim straddled him, fists wrapped tight in the front of his (previously) unwrinkled uniform shirt. The chess pieces are still rolling in the corners of the room, and he thinks he may have bruised his knee on the table. He had thought something reasoned. Calm. Mature. Had thought that right up until Spock had looked at him with those dark eyes and said “I believe that you have placed yourself in a compromising position, captain.”

Oh well.

“Capt-” Spock starts, pointed tongue licking lightly at his opened lips.

“ _Jim_ ” Kirk corrects, leaning forward and thumping his chest in emphasis.

Spock blinks hesitantly.

“Dammit, Spock” Jim growls in frustration, “I miss you. I miss your company, I miss your terrible jokes, I miss a chess game I don't have to beg, plead, and arm-twist you into.” He releases Spock's shirt, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I miss you in my head, Spock. I want that back.”

Spock's face closes utterly, and he effortlessly pushes Jim to the floor as he rises, pulling at the front of his shirt to straighten it.

“Captain. A change of emotion, particularly one precipitated by guilt, does not negate your earlier logic. Good night.”

The door swishes shut behind him with a finality Jim can barely stand.

  
**10) “Light My Candle”- Rent**

_The Enterprise, Cmmdr Spock's quarters. 1934 hours._

Kirk pauses briefly outside of Spock's door before screwing up his courage to knock lightly.

“Enter.”

The door swishes open, and a wave of heat rolls out. Kirk has only been in Spock's quarters once or twice before, and he can't resist the urge to stare curiously around as he steps cautiously inside the door. Spock is seated on his immaculate meditation mat, his back ramrod straight and facing the captain.

“Spock? You sent for me?” Jim is wary. Any relations they've had in the past few days have been as formal as anything he could ever have imagined, and twice as icy

.“Captain. A most distressing occurrence has come to my attention.” Spock stands slowly, his back still to the captain as he rolls his mat and places it against the wall.

Jim's brow furrows in puzzlement. “What is it, Spock?”

“Dust, Captain.” Spock is walking deliberately toward him, hands folded in front of his waist.

Jim is beginning to feel like a particularly slow child. “Dust, Spock?”

“Dust, Jim.” Spock has stopped in front of him. Right in front of him. Jim can feel the heat radiating from him, even through his heavy meditation robe. Their eyes lock, and Jim bites his bottom lip involuntarily. Spock twitches an eyebrow. “Dust, Jim. On my chess set.”

Neurons fire in Jim's brain, synapse to synapse, and as the meaning of Spock's words begins to coalesce, he feels his lips curl in a impossibly brilliant smile.

Spock leans imperceptibly closer. “ _Most distressing, Jim_ ” he murmurs, just before their lips collide.


End file.
